


Boys or Girls

by jashinist_feminist



Category: Naruto
Genre: Caught, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25090786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jashinist_feminist/pseuds/jashinist_feminist
Summary: In the aftermath of a family funeral, Rasa’s cousin asks him an important, no, inappropriate, question…
Relationships: Rasa/Sandaime Kazekage | Third Kazekage
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Boys or Girls

**Author's Note:**

> It's been such a long time since I last posted! But I wanted to offer out some RasaThird, because who doesn't love a bit of Suna in the summer?
> 
> This takes place in one of my extended Sunan AUs, where basically Sasori doesn't leave. There's about 4/5 years in age between him and Rasa, and then another 4/5 years between Rasa and the Third.
> 
> I would just like to additionally add that I want to make it VERY VERY clear that Rasa and the Third Kazekage are VERY DISTANT COUSINS. They are NOT directly related.
> 
> My headcanons for the Kazekage clan is that the title is passed through the family, but the 1st, 2nd and 3rd had no kids so rather than the title be inherited by a child, it went to the next most powerful person in the clan. After the 3rd died, that happened to be Rasa...who incidently had a tonne of kids XD just wanted to clear that up too. :)

Rasa knew the history of his clan, more or less. He knew that his distant relative had been the first wind shadow, and the first to unite the land of wind under his reign. He knew that he had been killed by assassins, and so his other distant cousin from another branch of his clan, had become the second wind shadow, and ruled over them still.

He knew his part in the family, knew how it sprawled across Suna in a series of marriages and alliances, distant cousins of shared abilities, varying classes, differing circumstances. He knew his duties, how he fitted into all of this, and what was expected of him.

Rasa had been born to parents who had more or less given up on expecting to become parents, having reached an age where child bearing had become unlikely. He was their only child, and so all their efforts had gone onto investing in and raising him. Rasa supposed that with this set-up, he could have become a brat. But, he had been blessed with an awareness, and a deepset desire not to take advantage of their doting.

When his parents told him that one of their older relatives had died and their presence was required at his funeral, Rasa nodded. His relative had been a counsellor, and while Rasa had not personally known the deceased, duty called. He had to pay his respects, and so he donned white mourning robes, pulled on plain brown leather sandals, and followed his parents to the temple.

Rasa knelt beside his parents, listening as hymns were chanted. Incense was lit, and the thick heady scent filled the air. It was a particularly sweet sugared scent, that made Rasa think of candies that didn’t quite suit the occasion. It cloyed his nostrils, and Rasa glanced around, seeking a distraction.

Sitting further ahead of him and his parents, he spotted one of his cousins.

Rasa barely spoke to his cousin. He could barely even recall his name, but apparently, his cousin had held him as a baby and kissed his brow. At such a young age, Rasa couldn’t remember it. His cousin was a fine shinobi, a jonin already, practically kage level, the next candidate to take over from the second if the assassins came. At age thirteen, he’d killed an intruder to his home on his own with merely one kunai, defending himself and his mother single handedly. It had been the talk of Suna, drawing whispers from all over.

Rasa took it in his stride. His cousin was a good shinobi. He served Suna well. That was all Rasa needed to know. That was all Rasa cared about.

His cousin’s topknot lightly swayed through the incense. Rasa could not see the front of his face from here, but could just about see the flick of eyeliner from the corner of his eye, stretching around his temple. Rasa blinked. Some Sunan men wore cosmetics to enhance their appearances, but not in Rasa’s family. He couldn’t imagine his own father - paunchy, balding - donning red lipstick and blue eyeshadow. The thought was...illegal.

He had to admit the eyeliner added a nice side profile to his cousin. He was a handsome man, accomplished, proud, and he wanted to show it off. Rasa would allow him that.

He sniffed again, the incense making him sleepy. Once the mourning rites were complete, Rasa knelt upright gratefully, before helping his mother up. As he did so, he noticed that his cousin laid his hand on the small of his mother’s back, making their way from the temple, towards one of the chambers at the back, where they would toast the memory of the deceased with a banquet of wines and appetizers.

Rasa sat beside his father, and looked across the tables. There was old Granny Chiyo with her little redheaded grandson. He looked small and young to be at a funeral, Rasa guessed that the boy was twelve.

Then on the table beside Chiyo’s, perched his cousin. Rasa stared, taking in the full detail of his cousin’s eyeliner. It enhanced the golden yellow hue of his eyes, the slanted angle, and that... _ look _ . Rasa didn’t know what  _ that look _ was, or what it stirred in him, but there was... _ something _ smouldering there.

His cousin turned, and those smouldering eyes locked onto Rasa.

Rasa froze, numb, and adverted his gaze quickly. He turned it back to Chiyo, to her grandson, to anyone, but there was no one here, no one else quite as interesting. And his cousin knew it, as surely as Rasa did. He had been caught staring.

Rasa looked down at his plate, almost as if he expected it to swallow him whole.

“Here, dear, here’s the meat. You love the more meaty dishes, don’t you?”

“Yes, mother,” said Rasa, accepted the tray and piling it onto his plate.

“You look very red,” observed his father.

“It is warm in here,” agreed his mother. “Let’s fetch you some water. Water please!”

Rasa suffered through the starter, and the main course, sipping at water as ordered by his mother. He drained a glass of wine, wanting to dull the edges, and found it made his mind muzzy. Excusing himself, he made his way to the restrooms to relieve himself, and finding a peaceful chamber, perched down on an ottoman, grateful for the quiet room compared to the buzzing gossip in the dining room.

“What are you doing?” asked a small voice.

Rasa glanced up.

“Hello Sasori,” he greeted. “I’m just having a quiet moment. Shouldn’t you be with your granny?”

Sasori looked peeved. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not?” asked Rasa. He frowned slightly. “How old are you now anyway? Twelve?”

Sasori’s nostrils flared angrily, and his face turned red to match his hair. “I’m sixteen!”

Rasa startled. He did a double take at Sasori, trying to find traces of the sixteen year old he was. But all he saw was a short statue, large eyes, and dainty features.

“Very funny,” said Rasa.

“I am not a child,” glowered Sasori, menacing forward. If, a twelve year old could be considered menacing. “And if you’re going to treat me like one, I’ll act like one.”

“What do you mean?” asked Rasa. Sasori kicked him, hard, on the shin. Rasa yelped, drawing his leg up onto his lap. Frantically he rubbed the blossoming bruise with the palm of his hand. “I’m telling your granny!”

“I’m not twelve!” snarled Sasori, storming away.

Rasa grimaced, and rubbed his leg harder. The stinging throbbed, and now he felt thoroughly miserable and sorry for himself. He wished he could go home, but there was still dessert and wine to go through.

“Rasa, isn’t it?”

Rasa glanced up.

Now, his cousin stood in the doorway, effectively blocking them both in. Like Rasa, he wore white mourning robes, but with a golden belt slung across his hips, golden bangles along each wrist, and sandals thonged with gold lacing. He watched as Rasa sat rubbing his leg with those smouldering eyes, and Rasa swallowed. He felt a little foolish, hunched up on an ottoman, robes askew, his leg throbbing after being kicked by a twelve year old.

“Yes,” admitted Rasa.

His cousin’s eyes twinkled. “What happened to your leg?”

“Sasori kicked me.”

Rasa felt ridiculous as he spoke, essentially admitting that a child had managed to injure him. He was supposed to be a jonin too. Maybe not on his cousin’s level yet, but a jonin all the same.

“Silly boy,” crooned his cousin, although Rasa did not know if his cousin meant him or Sasori. The answer was revealed when he perched down on the ottoman next to Rasa, their robes rippling across one another. Rasa noticed that his cousin’s robes were more voluminous, more elaborate in their folds, and suddenly felt very plain and very dull. Yet, the other man continued to speak. “Can you believe he’s really sixteen? I was there for the birthday feast. He’s mad for puppets. And already the Head of the Puppet Corps.”

“Puppets are hideous,” muttered Rasa, even as he cringed that Sasori had not been lying.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” warned his cousin.

“Fear not,” said Rasa, giving his shin another rub. The aching soothed, and he put his leg back down, tucking his robe over it. His little finger brushed against his cousins as he adjusted his robes. Rasa swallowed quickly. “Did you...did you…”

“Did I?”

“Did you know our relative well?”

“I can’t say I did,” admitted his cousin, almost with a hint of carelessness in his voice. He gave a casual wave of his hand, the bangles jangling up and down his wrist. “But, appearances must.”

“So it isn’t just me then,” muttered Rasa.

His cousin laughed throatily. There was something compelling in that laugh, that made Rasa simultaneously relax and clench all at one. Rasa held onto the edge of the ottoman for dear life, knuckles whitening through his skin.

“My dear cousin.”

“Yes?”

“An important question,” announced his cousin.

Rasa’s breath hitched. “What is it?”

“We don’t really know each other.”

“I’m afraid we don’t,” said Rasa.

“It shouldn’t be this way,” decided his cousin. “We’re almost of an age. We ought to get to know each other.”

Rasa nodded, before swallowing bravely. “I hope you won’t take offence, but I’m not sure if I even know your na-”

“Boys or girls?”

Rasa choked.

Boys or girls?

His cousin was asking him…

...boys or girls?

At a funeral?

At their dead relative’s funeral?

“That’s...that’s inappropriate!” spluttered Rasa.

Those golden yellow eyes twinkled defiantly. “It’s an important question.”

“It is not!” insisted Rasa. “We are here, to respect the memory, of our dead...person!”

“We don’t even know him,” shrugged his cousin. “You admitted so yourself.”

“I am not talking about my sexual preferences at a funeral!” Rasa scorned.

“Yes, we are,” said his cousin, the twinkle in his eyes turning into a golden gleam. “Boys or girls?”

“Girls!” cried Rasa.

Of course the answer was girls. It couldn’t be any other. Rasa knew that one day he would get married and have children, so it had to be girls. He couldn’t even imagine it any other way. And his parents wouldn’t be expecting it any other way. The answer was girls, like every other man he knew. Maybe now his cousin would cease taunting him.

“I haven’t seen you with any girls,” his cousin admitted thoughtfully, lightly tapping his chin. “How many girlfriends have you had?”

“None!” cried Rasa. He cleared his throat. “I mean, none yet.”

“Oh, now that won’t do,” his cousin tutted sympathetically. “What about boyfriends?”

“I don’t like boys,” Rasa glowered.

His cousin looked saddened. Rasa couldn’t think why.

“Have you kissed a girl?” his cousin tried.

“No!”

“Kissed a boy?”

“Definitely not!”

“So how do you know?”

“Because I know!” Rasa insisted. “I’m normal.”

His cousin reclined back on the ottoman. “Define normal.”

Rasa shook his head. “What everyone else does.”

“Everyone else tries it out,” said his cousin. “Do you even know how to kiss?”

Now Rasa was flaming red, even hotter than when he had mistaken Sasori for a twelve year old.

“Of course I do!”

“But not if you haven’t tried it out,” his cousin’s eyes twinkled again, brimming with mischief. “When you finally do meet a girl, you can’t expect to impress her if you don’t know what you’re doing. Let me help you out with some advice.”

His cousin was not going to drop the point. Rasa had no more retorts left inside of him. Shock had taken over. All that could be done now was to ride this through.

“Fine,” Rasa folded his arms. “Show me your best advice.”

His cousin shifted, tucking one leg under the other, so that he sat and faced Rasa on the ottoman. Rasa sat up, and copied, facing his cousin to listen in. He unfolded his arms, laying his hands in his lap instead. Sitting face to face like this brought a new sense of intimacy, their robes lapping over one another, knees slightly knocking.

“You could start by cupping their face,” suggested his cousin, his hands reaching out to cup Rasa’s.

Heat flooded Rasa’s cheeks. His cousin’s palms thrummed with electricity, firmly rooting him to the spot. His hands were large, wide, powerful, and Rasa felt strangely small cupped in his embrace.

“That’s...that’s very sweet,” Rasa managed to stammer, through the physical demonstration. “Is that it?”

“Look them in the eyes,” encouraged his cousin, the flecks of gold shimmering through his gaze. “That’s where the connection is made.”

Rasa forced himself to look his cousin in the eye, even as his cousin’s eyes burnt into his. He steadied his beating heart, as he grew used to the contact. Objectively speaking, it did feel nice. No one had ever cupped his face like this, caressed his cheeks. Maybe he ought to stop fussing, stop worrying, and just...enjoy.

“That’s it,” his cousin crooned, a thumb lightly caressing an escaped spike of maroon hair. “Now, purse your lips, not too tightly, just pucker them so they look soft and appealing.”

Rasa copied, his lower lip pouting.

His cousin had the hang of it immediately, lush rosy brown lips, just parted slightly. They looked plump and inviting. A curiosity stirred inside of Rasa, that he wanted to know how those lips felt, know how they compared against his own.

“Just relax.”

His cousin had barely uttered the words, before he leaned forwards, closing the gap between them. Rasa had no time to react, besides exhale in shock, and then inhale, drawing the sensation of his cousin in.

As they exchanged the initial brush of skin, Rasa realised that his cousin’s lips were better than he could have ever imagined. Much better than any image he could have conjured in the few brief seconds where he considered what they must be like.

Rasa simply followed where his cousin led, lips moving in mimicry. He need not have feared, as instinct took over, and he allowed himself the pleasure of being loved upon.

In their embrace, Rasa felt his senses and awareness of his cousin enhance. He smelt of spiced cologne and iron, interestingly enough. Rasa supposed that it was from the magnet release, yet it only served to entice him closer. That his cousin, such a powerful shinobi, would want him, was incredibly gratifying. Rasa inched closer along the ottoman, fingers clutching at the white mourning robes, the pads slipping across silks, forgetting the reason for their gathering.

His cousin’s hands slid down his face, one cradling his head, hands sinking into Rasa’s hair. Rasa melted against his hold, against his cousin’s broad chest, simply because he could.

His cousin moaned contentedly, low, at the back of his throat. Rasa felt himself pulled even closer, as if such a thing were possible, and his cousin’s mouth opened. His tongue flicked forwards, running across Rasa’s lower lip.

His cousin broke away as Rasa gasped.

Lips swollen, Rasa pouted, as his cousin merely chuckled. “You want to try tongue?”

He need not say another word, as Rasa pulled his cousin back closer, opening his mouth and curling his tongue around the other man’s. They lightly exchanged back and forth in one steady flow, the tender nerves tingling all the way from the tip of his tongue to down Rasa’s spine. A bubbling sensation began in the pit of his belly, that thrummed throughout his limbs, and dare Rasa admit it, his groin.

The smacking of their lips echoed throughout the chamber, muffled from those outside by the toasting of glasses, wine flowing. Soon the deceased’s memory would be dulled away, and replaced by revelries.

And Rasa and his cousin would be left to theirs.

His cousin’s hands had begun to wander. They roamed across Rasa’s back, feeling the strength and muscle there, ran down his sides, along the straight line of his body, lightly stroked his abdominal muscles, and then pushed along his thighs. Rasa, in response, could not refuse the opportunity to explore his cousin so. One hand stroked through escaped strands from his topknot, before giving it a slight tug. His cousin laughed beneath their kiss, and Rasa left it be, deciding that he liked the way his cousin styled his hair, the way he presented himself to the world, in elaborate ways that Rasa wouldn’t dare. His hands sloped down his cousin’s shoulders instead, the broadness and strength an enjoyable path to follow.

“You’re a natural,” his cousin breathed.

“I am?” asked Rasa. He had long forgotten the reason for their lesson, simply giving into the moment and enjoying himself. He’d even forgotten their dead relative, focusing only on his cousin and his cousin alone.

Another one of those adorable chuckles, that caused warmth to spread across Rasa’s chest and throughout his body, and Rasa pulled his cousin back for another kiss.

A shrill voice rang out. “What are you doing?”

Rasa and his cousin pulled apart.

Sasori stared at them dolefully.

“Teaching a lesson,” replied his cousin, his thumb running across Rasa’s lower lip. “Nothing to interest you.”

Rasa felt his shoulders sag, disappointedly scowling at Sasori for interrupting the liaison.

“They’re looking for you both back in the hall,” said Sasori disdainfully. “Dessert is served. You’ve kept us all  _ waiting _ .”

“Rasa can’t believe you’re really sixteen,” announced his cousin, as he released Rasa and stood upright. Rasa followed suit, smoothing down his robes. “Or the Head of the Puppet Corps.”

“I’ll give you a live demonstration if you like,” glowered Sasori.

“Never mind, I’m sure you’ll get your growth spurt soon, little bean,” his cousin patted Sasori’s red hair as he passed by him.

Sasori shook with seething. Rasa simply gave him a shrug, and followed after his cousin to return to the dining room. As Sasori watched after them, Rasa couldn’t help himself. He reached forwards, aiming a light slap at his older cousin’s buttocks.

His cousin jolted, and glanced backwards with a wry smile. “Oh, now I truly have corrupted you...”

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder that Rasa and the Third Kazekage are DISTANT COUSINS. They are NOT directly related.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I would LOVE to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Do you also have any headcanons for Suna?


End file.
